story codes: M/b, oral, anal, tort, sm, cons


This story is fantasy and should be treated as such!

I don't condone or encourage the actions depicted in this story whether legal or not. This story depicts sexual acts between a grown man and several young boys, if this offends you, do NOT read on.

Stanley Freeze, private investigator

I can hardly remember when I concluded my last profitable case. I had been struggling to keep my head above water for as long as long as could remember and my memory's still fine, thank you. The yellow light started to pour in the blind-covered windows, drawing stripes of light across the brown, filthy walls, indicating that another sleepless night had passed. Ever since I'd been involved in a case that nearly cost me my head, I had trouble sleeping. Fine if you're on a case and need to get work done, clues checked, people found, or, lately, missing cats found. Not so fine if you have nothing to do but reminisce on old times, when people actually called in your invaluable services. Old times, when you had to extract information out of those innocent-looking boys who guard the big people. Of course the old times had given me more than a few scars, but shit happens. On the whole, the old times were good times.

My coffee was working its way down my intestines when a modest knock caught my attention. I know the people who are capable of making a knock begging for forgiveness for the intrusion, they are not the people who come by, read 'Stanley Freeze, Private Investigator' on my door and use their gentle knocking skills on it. This stank. I answered, my “come in” almost drowning in the coughs caused by my keep-awake-cigarettes and the door opened almost apologetically. Amazing skill. In she walked. Tall, slender, mysterious, blonde hair flowing from under her broad-rimmed hat, a veil concealing what wasn't already concealed by the miserable light in my office/living space. Amazing figure, too. Tall, but otherwise a boyish figure, slender and verging on the athletic. Her man was a lucky man. So it figured it wasn't me. Lucky, nor her man. A hush voice asked:

- “do you know me, mister Freeze?”

Play cool. Try to figure out what the hell she wants coming here. Above all, don't show your desperation.

- “Looking for a snoop, are you, ms S.? Figure you found one.”

- “Don't play cool with me, mister Freeze, I know your situation, you haven't had a job that earned beyond your filthy cigarettes for months.”

- “Er... Right... Er...”

So much for cool.

- “Your sign reads 'specialized in boy crime', mister Freeze, I have a boy crime for you to solve.”

She went on explaining that her son, Rafael, eleven, had been missing for a couple of days now and that she didn't want the police involved because the people who she suspected, wouldn't be stopped by the police. I would have to tread very carefully if I was to accept, on the other hand, I wouldn't have financial worries for the next two years if I succeeded, after all Carmen S. was the wife of the richest man in town, with private access to half of the fortune. She explained that the people she suspected were part of the most ruthless gang in the city, led by the second-richest man in town, crime lord Battista R. She feared, she said, that her son would be involved in the prolific wave of boy porn flooding the city. Of course boy porn wasn't illegal, as long as everything was consensual and all the contracts were signed. The thought, however, of little Rafael S. being involved in all this and his images and films being spread all over the country for all to see, was less than appetizing for Carmen S. and the whole S. clan. What choice did I have? Tomorrow, at least four very big men would come up to my door, smash it and add the bill to my outstanding debts. I accepted.

The blistering sunlight hurt my eyes even through the dark shades I was wearing. Sweaty people sped by, nearly missing me every time. The alleys were getting smaller and darker. The air grew correspondingly thicker, heavier and hotter. The door to the club wasn't guarded, this was the back door and no-one would come through there unless they were insane, or insanely brave, a distinction I have trouble making. Inside, somehow, the air managed to get even thicker. Surprisingly, I blended in quite well, although the legitimate way of getting in was way too expensive for me. The only parts of the club well lit were the stages. Each occupied by a boy, varying in age and racial make-up. Left were the Caucasian boys, slender, pale and in various stages of excitement. Moving to the right, the boys got darker, ending in a couple of Negro boys pleasing themselves with dildos. One fetching, Asian-looking boy was crawling around a pole that had a phallus-shaped protrusion attached to it. He was still wearing a skimpy pair of underpants, revealing his perfect ass and tiny member. He slowly kneeled before the phallus and started to lick it, up and down, kissing it, kissing the tip and finally closing his beautiful lips around the tip. The spectators' eyes seemed to pop out of their heads as the boy moved his face toward the pole taking the whole phallus in his mouth, eventually stopping to stop the gag reflex, but only momentarily. Soon he moved all the way to the pole, showing his expanding throat that struggled to accommodate the artificial member that by any means had looked impressive. After bobbing his head up and down a little, he pulled back, got up and started dancing again. Sensuous movements emphasized his slender build as his hands moved over his belly and ass to the waist-band of his underpants. He hooked his thumbs and inch-by-inch moved them down, pulling off his pants. They fell to the floor and the public marveled at his perfect buttocks, small ball-sac and hairless, bobbing, erect little penis. He bent over and showed his little boy cunt to the public. Then he made his way to the pole again and rubbed his back side against the artificial phallus, still wet from his earlier exploits. The metal rod rubbed against the valley between his butt cheeks, causing the little boy to pant and wriggle, his penis still stiff before him. He positioned the tip of the phallus at his little cunt and applied pressure. His hole strained but gave way. The boy, his face contorted with a difficult to make out mix of pleasure and pain, but with erect penis, lowered himself. Slowly he penetrated himself completely with the metal phallus. Then, he started to ride up and down, panting and moaning. Suddenly a couple of older, dark boys all naked and with erections, emerged,from the shadows and, seemingly catching the little artist by surprise, grabbed his arms and legs and tied them together behind his back, then they tied a rope from his wrists to his ankles and pulled, so his ankles were lifted and the poor boy was suspended from the phallus. He screamed to let him go, but one of the boys had a whip ready and cautioned his victim to be silent by whipping his small nipples. The boy quietly sobbed but screamed no more. The assailants started to rub their erect penises and positioned themselves to whip the poor Asian boy. Mercilessly, they whipped him, hitting his nipples and his still very hard little dick. Amazingly, the kid started to pant and seemed to enjoy at least some of his ordeal. He wriggled and moaned a little louder until he arched his back and, unmistakably, came. The older boys stopped their whipping and began to jack off to the sight of their limp, tortured, but satisfied victim. When they came at the same time, they covered the little boy with cum, which dripped off his limp body. The show was over and the lights dimmed. The public turned to another show, while some of them ordered their own boys and retreated to private rooms.

I remembered that I had a job to do and that I wouldn't stay undetected for long, so I quickly scanned the club for my target. I found him by the bar, looking bored, but his staring at the various shows revealed him. Raulo, Battista's favorite for half a year now. Twelve, Latino, gorgeous. He wore a set of shorts that emphasized his round buttocks and left his brown, flawless skin in full view. Flawless, that is, but for little wounds where the special treatment by Battista or someone else had damaged his skin. I walked up to him, pulled a nail-polisher from my pocket, pushed it in his side and whispered from behind him that there would be serious trouble if he didn't com along. Having an adventurous streak, he obeyed, smiling and playing along. I whisked him away to my office after I'd convinced myself that I hadn't been spotted. It was time to extract some information from young Raulo, my specialty. I opened the case that held my tools.